Hot Driver - S01 E25

Story 2 days ago

Hot Driver - S01 E25

Read Story: SEASON 1 EPISODE 25

Abigail’s Mansion – Night

The Mansion Was Silent.

Moonlight Filtered Through The Tall Windows, Casting Silver Shadows Across The Marble Floors. The Only Sound Was The Soft Ticking Of The Antique Clock In The Hallway And The Gentle Hum Of The Central Heating.

Someone Stepped Inside.

The Figure Moved With Practiced Silence, Shoes Barely Making A Sound Against The Floor. He Knew This House. He Knew Exactly Where He Was Going.

He Went Straight To Abigail’s Room.

The Door Was Slightly A Jar. He Pushed It Open Gently, Stepping Inside.

Abigail Lay On The Bed, Deeply Asleep. Her Dark Hair Was Spread Across The Pillow. Her Face Was Pale, Her Brow Slightly Furrowed Even In Sleep, As If The Cramps Were Still Troubling Her Even In Her Unconscious State.

The Figure Stood There For A Moment, Looking Down At Her Face.

His Hand Lifted, Hovering Near Her Cheek, But He Didn’t Touch Her. He Just Looked At Her. His Expression Was Unreadable.

Then He Turned And Walked Toward The Kitchen.

He Moved Through The Mansion With Quiet Confidence, Opening Cabinets, Finding What He Needed. He Filled A Kettle With Water And Set It To Heat. While It Boiled, He Retrieved A Small Flask From His Pocket, Filling It With A Dark Liquid From A Bottle He’d Brought With Him.

When The Water Was Hot, He Poured It Into A Rubber Bottle, Screwed The Cap On Tightly, And Wrapped It Carefully In A Soft Towel.

He Walked Back To The Room.

Abigail Hadn’t Moved.

He Sat On The Edge Of The Bed. Slowly, Carefully, He Lifted The Edge Of Her Shirt Just Enough To Expose Her Lower Belly. He Placed The Wrapped Bottle Against Her Skin, Pressing It Gently Against Where The Cramps Would Be Worst.

She Stirred Slightly, A Small Sigh Escaping Her Lips, But She Didn’t Wake.

He Set The Flask With The Medication On Her Nightstand. Then He Reached Into His Pocket And Pulled Out A Small Bag Of Dried Herbs. He Placed It On The Stand Beside The Flask, Ensuring She’d Find It In The Morning.

He Looked At Her One More Time.

Then He Stood, Walked To The Door, And Left As Quietly As He’d Come.

—

Bennett’s Mansion – Duane’s Room – Early Morning

The First Rays Of Dawn Crept Through The Curtains, Casting A Pale Golden Light Across The Room.

Duane Lay Wide Awake, Staring At The Ceiling.

He Hadn’t Slept.

Not One Second.

Ivory Had Been Wrapped Around Him Like A Koala For Most Of The Night, Her Warm Breath Against His Chest, Her Body Pressed Against His. He’d Been Terrified To Move, Terrified She’d Wake Up And Scream, Terrified Of What She’d Say When She Realized Where She Was.

His Muscles Ached From Staying So Still For So Long. His Mind Raced With Questions He Couldn’t Answer.

She Didn’t Know What She’d Do To Him, His Manhóód Had Stayed Erected All Night….

Why Did She Come To Me? What Happened To Her? Who Is Ron? And Why Does She, With All Her Money And Power, Go Through Such Distress?

Ivory Shifted Slightly In Her Sleep, Her Grip On Him Loosening. Her Arm Slid Off His Chest. Her Body Turned Slightly Away From Him.

Duane Exhaled Slowly, Finally Allowing Himself To Breathe Properly.

He Had A Hard Night, Trying Hard Not To Look At Her Bôôbs Which Is Pointing Forward. He Had Take A Peak At Them In The Middle Of The Night, And Had Quickly Snapped Out Of It.

He Carefully, Quietly, Slipped Out Of Bed. He Grabbed His Clothes And Began To Dress, His Back To The Bed, His Movements Quick And Silent.

A Soft Gasp.

He Turned.

Ivory Was Sitting Up, Her Eyes Wide, Her Face Pale.

Her Gaze Darted Around The Room, Taking In The Unfamiliar Surroundings. Then Her Eyes Landed On Him.

“What—” Her Voice Cracked. “What Are You Doing In Here?”

“You’re In My Room,” Duane Said Flatly. “This Is My Room.”

Ivory’s Eyes Went Even Wider. She Looked Down At Herself. Her Nightie. She Didn’t Wear Anything Underneath, She Did The Rumpled Sheets. His Bed. Him Standing There, Half-dressed.

Her Face Went White.

“No,” She Breathed. “No, No, No—”

“Care To Explain What Happened Last Night?” Duane Asked, Buttoning His Shirt. “Because I’d Really Like To Understand Why My Boss Climbed Into My Bed And Practically Mauled Me.”

Ivory’s Face Went From White To Red In An Instant. “Mauled You?”

“You Were Clinging To Me Like I Was The Last Life Raft On A Sinking Ship. Did You Know How That Has Affected Me”

“I Wasn’t In My Right Mind,” Ivory Snapped, Scrambling Out Of Bed. “You Should Have Stopped Me!”

“Stopped You? You Came In Here, Crawled Into My Bed, Wrapped Yourself Around Me, And Fell Asleep Within Seconds. What Was I Supposed To Do? Wake You Up And Get Screamed At? You Looked Peaceful—”

“That’s Not The Point!”

“Then What Is The Point, Ms. Bennett?”

Ivory Opened Her Mouth, Then Closed It. Her Hands Were Shaking. Her Whole Body Was Trembling.

“I Don’t Remember,” She Said, Her Voice Barely A Whisper. “I Don’t Remember Leaving My Room. I Don’t Remember Coming Here. I Don’t Remember Any Of It.”

Duane Studied Her Face. She Wasn’t Lying. He Could See It In Her Eyes, In The Way Her Hands Trembled, In The Panic Creeping Into Her Expression.

“I Remember The—” She Stopped, Her Face Crumpling. “I Remember Feeling Like I Couldn’t Breathe. Like The Walls Were Closing In. The Memories Wouldn’t Stop. Ron—” She Stopped Again, Pressing Her Palm Against Her Forehead.

Duane Said Nothing. He Just Waited.

Ivory Shook Her Head Violently. “I Hate This. I Hate Feeling This Way. I Hate—” She Stopped And Straightened. He Could Almost See The Walls Rebuilding, Every Brick And Mortar Sliding Back Into Place. “This Never Happened,” She Said, Her Voice Flat. “I Wasn’t Here. You Didn’t See Me.”

“Ms. Bennett—”

“This Never Happened,” She Repeated, And Then She Was Gone, Slipping Out The Door Before He Could Say Another Word.

Duane Stared At The Empty Doorway For A Long Moment.

He Shook His Head Slowly.

What A Strange Woman.

Hazel Emerged From Her Hiding Place In The Hallway, Her Face Split In A Wide, Mischievous Grin That Could Only Mean Trouble.

She Put A Finger To Her Lips. Her Eyes Sparkled With Mischief.

Duane’s Eyes Went Wide. “Hazel—”

“Good Morning, Handsome Brother,” She Said Sweetly, Skipping Past Him. “Don’t Worry. I Didn’t See Anything.”

She Winked And Disappeared Down The Hallway.

Duane Sighed.

This Is Going To Be A Long Day.

—

Ivory’s Room – Same Morning

Ivory Stood In The Center Of Her Room, Breathing Hard.

She Looked At Her Bed. The Covers Were Rumpled. The Pillow Was Cold. She Hadn’t Slept There At All.

She Had No Memory Of Leaving. None. She Remembered Lying Down, Feeling The Panic Rise, Feeling The Walls Close In. And Then… Nothing.

How Will She Go Into His Room In This?

Why Must She Have This Dissociative Episode?

She Pressed Her Palms Against Her Eyes, Trying To Push The Memories Back.

I Need To Get Myself Together.

She Walked To Her Bathroom And Turned On The Shower. The Hot Water Hit Her Skin, And She Stood There, Letting It Wash Away The Remnants Of The Night, Trying To Scrub Away The Shame, The Embarrassment, The Terror Of Having To Face Duane Again.

But No Matter How Long She Stood There, She Couldn’t Forget The Way He’d Looked At Her.

Calm. Unbothered. Like She Was Just Another Person To Be Handled.

He Didn’t Act Scared Of Her, And She Didn’t Know How To Process That.

—

Bennett’s Mansion – Dining Room – Morning

The Entire Family Sat Around The Long Mahogany Table.

Diana, Arthur, Hazel And Ivory.

Duane Sat At The Far End, Having Been Included At Diana’s Insistence.

The Maids Moved Around The Table, Dishing Out Plates Of Food. But Something Felt Off.

Diana Broke The Silence First.

“Ivory, I Came To Your Room Last Night,” She Said, Her Tone Light But Curious. “Your Door Wasn’t Fully Closed. I Closed It For You.”

Ivory Froze, Her Fork Hovering Over Her Plate. She Didn’t Say Anything. She Didn’t Look Up.

Hazel, On The Other Hand, Was Barely Suppressing A Smile As She Took A Bite Of Her Toast, Her Eyes Darting Between Her Sister And Duane With Barely Concealed Delight.

Duane’s Face Remained Completely Blank.

Arthur Looked Up From His Newspaper. “What Do You Mean, Her Door Wasn’t Closed? Why Would Her Door Be Open?”

“I’m Sure She Just Forgot To Close It Properly,” Diana Said Smoothly. “No Harm Done.”

But His Eyes Lingered On Ivory, Who Still Hadn’t Spoken.

“Come To Think Of It,” Arthur Said, His Voice Gaining A Hard Edge, “I Heard Sounds Last Night. A Door Opening And Closing. Footsteps. What Exactly Happened After You All Went To Bed?”

Ivory Was Quiet. She Lifted Her Head Slowly, Meeting Her Father’s Gaze With A Cool, Steady Look.

“I Was Restless,” She Said. “I Walked Around For A Bit.”

Arthur Looked At Her And Duane In Turns. “And You? Were You Walking Around Too?”

Duane Met His Gaze Evenly. “I Was In My Room All Night, Sir.”

It Wasn’t A Lie. Technically.

Arthur Stared At Him For A Long Moment, Clearly Unsatisfied, Before Turning His Attention Back To His Breakfast.

Hazel’s Foot Tapped With Barely Contained Glee Beneath The Table.

—

Abigail’s Mansion – Same Morning

Abigail Stirred Slowly.

Something Was Different. Something Was… Off.

She Blinked Her Eyes Open. The Familiar Ceiling Of Her Bedroom Stared Back At Her. The Morning Light Was Soft, Filtering Through The Gauze Curtains.

She Sat Up Slowly. A Sharp Pain Lanced Through Her Stomach, And She Winced, Bracing Herself For The Cramps To Hit.

But Then…

Nothing.

The Cramps Were Gone.

She Blinked, Confused. She Had Been In Agony Last Night. She’d Barely Slept. She’d Spent Hours Rolling In Pain, Unable To Find Any Position That Gave Her Relief.

But Now…

She Looked Down And Noticed It. A Rubber Bottle, Wrapped In A Soft Towel, Now Resting On The Mattress Beside Her.

She Picked It Up. Still Warm. It Was Still Warm. Someone Had Been Here. Someone Had Put It There.

She Turned Her Head, And Her Eyes Landed On The Bedside Table.

A Flask.

She Reached For It, Uncapped It, And Sniffed. The Familiar, Unmistakable Smell Of The Herbal Mixture Tyler Always Made Her Whenever Her Cramps Got Bad.

Her Hands Started Shaking.

“Tyler?” She Whispered.

Her Eyes Darted Around The Room, Looking For Any Sign Of Him. But Nothing.

She Scrambled Out Of Bed, Still Gripping The Flask, And Raced Downstairs, Her Bare Feet Slapping Against The Cold Marble.

“Security!” She Shouted.

The Head Guard Appeared Almost Immediately, Startled. “Ma’am? Is Everything Okay?”

“Someone Was In My Room Last Night!” She Said. “I Want The Security Footage. Now.”

The Guard Scrambled To Comply.

Abigail Stood In Front Of The Monitors, Her Heart Pounding.

The Footage Showed A Figure Entering The Mansion, Moving Through The Halls With Ease, Climbing The Stairs, Entering Her Room.

But She Could Only See The Person’s Back. Broad Shoulders. Tall Frame. Familiar.

“Tyler,” She Breathed.

It Was Him. It Had To Be.

She Grabbed Her Phone And Dialed His Number.

It Rang, Once, Twice, Three Times.

Then: The Person You Are Trying To Reach Is Currently Unavailable.

She Tried Again.

Same Result.

“Tyler,” She Muttered, Staring At The Screen. “Why Won’t You Pick Up?”

Her Stomach Churned Suddenly, Sharply, And She Doubled Over, Pressing A Hand To Her Mouth.

She Rushed To The Bathroom Just In Time To Be Sick.

She Just Vomited!

—